Watching over the Waywatcher
by Anonymoose25
Summary: Kerillian is assisted in her recovery from a wound.


As a young healer in Sigmar's service, you've seen your share of war. Not battle, but the aftermath. Warriors on the frontline have to deal with violence and danger, but not the clean up. With the increase of Skaven activity in recent years, your job has become more demanding. And more disturbing. Conventional weapons are often gruesome enough, but the toxins and disgusting instruments of war the Skaven employ have made your life miserable in recent months.

But, things have been a bit better the last couple of days. You've found yourself in the employ of a small group of adventurers, who manage to not get wounded very often. They seem to be exceptionally skilled individuals, which makes your job much easier. You've even gotten to know them a bit over the days you've been tending to their scrapes. Markus Kruber, a man from your own region, who even knew your mother briefly. Bardin Goreksson, a jovial dwarf not defined by his size. Victor Saltzpyre, a mysterious Inquisitor you've been thus far afraid to offend. Sienna Fuegonasus, a brightwizard of few words but dazzling displays of action. But most intriguing to you, is the elf that has found her way into this strange company: a Waystalker by the name of Kerillian. You often catch yourself looking at the way she walks, her movements, the way she comports herself. You haven't been around many elves, and certainly not of this mysterious order. Many an occasion you have embarrassed yourself by not realizing she has noticed you starting. She usually just gives you a silent nod, but sometimes you could swear she was smiling behind her veil.

Despite your clumsy moments, the eclectic group have come to appreciate your craft, for even the most skilled warriors get a scratch here and there.

The one who has required your services the least is the Elf. You've never really seen much of her. You've only tended to a few forearm gashes from defensive wounds. In fact, you haven't seen much of her face nor her body past her hands and forearms. She has politely declined routine medical examinations, and has thus far remained unharmed in areas past her hands and forearms.

Today, you go about business as usual. While the company of heroes are off doing what they do, you prepare a couple clean beds for them and prepare your tools and bandages and medicines to be clean and ready to use should they return with injured.

But today would end up very different. As you work, you hear a wagon approaching. It's not hard to make out that it is the wagon employed by your charges.

But something was different. Today, when the group disembarked, Markus and Viktor were carrying a very bloody Elf between them. Her once green robe torn to rags, and stained so red that the green was almost unintelligible among the sheer amount of blood. She was unconscious, and nonresponsive, but was breathing and did have a pulse.

"I'm prepared to work immediately" you say, motioning the two men where to lay her. Thank Sigmar you did your job today. Bumbling around gathering instruments and supplies at this point would have surely wasted enough time for the patient to expire.

You usher the men from the room, and get to work on the injured party. Removing the torn clothes was easy enough, seeing as they were already in shreds and mostly gone. Her bracers, greaves, robe, tunic, chest armor, shoes, and veil all lay in a pile at the foot of the bed, and you get to work cleaning the wounds. The wounds themselves can be dressed, but risk of infection is always high when dealing with Skaven. Your collections of medicines, both magical and mundane, can assist in this.

After working for over an hour, cleaning and dressing the open wounds, applying salves to ward off infection, and utilizing all your knowledge towards assisting the patient, you have to leave the rest to her. And to Sigmar.

As the last of the wounds are dressed, and the patient is no longer in immediate danger of blood loss, you can't help but notice exactly what lays before you. A day ago, you would have considered yourself blessed to catch a glimpse of her hair under her veil, or to dress a scrape on her hand. But today, the same mysterious woman lays naked in your infirmary. Your mind does not wander, as she is your patient and still at risk under your care, but you can't help but notice her, and not just her wounds now.

And she was beautiful. Her skin was as pale as snow, contrasting with her black eyes. Her skin was covered in scars, surely from a lifetime of battles, but despite this, her skin remained beautiful. It was as if the scars were adornments on a tapestry, rather than blemishes or injuries.

Her chest shallowly but steadily rose and fell with her breathing, the wounds covering her chest properly cleaned and bandaged.

You decide to leave her to rest, as the limits of your healing have been reached. Rest and Sigmar's blessing are all that are left to determine the Elf's fate.

Night passes, and with your regular visits to clean and re-dress the wounds, you are feeling confident that she'll eventually live to tell the tale of yesterday's events. Time will tell how long it will take, but infection did not take hold of her, and the wounds themselves are already looking better than they did yesterday.

The next morning, you enter the room with a basket of fresh bandages and more salves, to discover the bed empty. She should not be up and moving already; it's way too soon. Something might have happened, so you turn to leave the room to find Viktor, only to instead find the Elf standing between you and the door.

You don't quite know what to say, since you expected her to be asleep for another day at least, probably more. Your loss for words seems to be shared, as the Elf stands looking at you for quite some time as well.

This length of silence gives you a moment to realize just what is happening. This person should be unconscious. She should be recovering. She was close to death just a day ago. Whatever she is, she has an abhuman constitution. All of the individuals under your care seem to, but this is beyond what is to be expected.

She finally speaks, "Did you dress my wounds?"

"Yes, ma'am. Yesterday when your companions returned, and throughout last night as the bleeding slowed".

A pause...

"Thank you...but your services are no longer required"

"I came in today with new bandages. You really should refresh them again, at least this once".

"No, I will not allow that. You seem to have done an...adequate job, but you are not to touch me further".

"I'm a healer. I really should examine your wounds further. Infection did not set in but I have to keep it that way, and I have tools to ensure that"

The elf pauses for a moment. Doesn't move or blink, but seems to be thinking.

"Fine. Do what you must".

"Thank you, ma'am. I will be tact. I am here to serve you, after all".

"Don't patronize me, lumberfoot"

"I do no such thing, I mean it. I'm a professional merely doing her job. If I may ask, is something wrong? I'm a doctor, this sort of thing is expected and normal".

As you speak, you walk around behind her, and begin to remove the simple robe that was left in the room last night. Her white shoulders almost shine in the light flowing in from the nearby windows.

"I'm not ashamed of my body, if that's what you're asking. I just don't want a lumberfoot touching me is all".

As she speaks, you remove the red and black bandages from her arms and shoulders and chest.

"Good, healthy coagulation. Scabs forming. Bleeding ceased. No infection. Everything seems to be going as well as we could have hoped." You pause for a second, considering if you should ask your next question. "Why would you be ashamed of your body? I thought no such thing, now or last night"

"I have...47 scars. A score more today than yesterday. Each one that mars my body, makes me less Elven. Less of what my people strive for"

"Ma'am, I don't mean to offend, but I had a thought the other night"

Your hands busy doing what they know to do, applying fresh bandages to the wounds, your mind tries to find the least offensive way to convey your next words

"Let's hear it lumberfoot"

"Well, after I had stopped your bleeding and tended the immediate danger to you, I must admit to you, that I did notice...your body".

"And?

"Well, I actually had the opposite thought. I thought you were beautiful, and that the scars that you carry; they seemed more like a painter's stroke on an immaculate canvas".

The Elf is still for a moment, then laughs. Something you had not seen from her yet, ever.

"Well lumberfoot, I appreciate the thought, but I would hardly call Skaven beasts and Chaos degenerates artists".

"Of course ma'am, I only meant insofar as you still beautiful, and admirable"

"I see your meaning, and will think on this. Are we finished here, then?"

You had just applied the last of the bandages on her arms and upper body.

"With these, yes. But you had several wounds on your legs and feet as well. If I may?"

"You may"

You move around in front of her, and kneel down in front of her with your basket of fresh bandages. As you begin to remove the bandages from her thigh, she shifts her weight to the other leg, and lifts the leg you are tending to a bit, so it is in front of you and angled conveniently. Her foot rests on your knee. You glance down briefly, and notice that her feet are immaculate. For someone who lives a life of combat and adventuring, her feet appear to be perfectly cared for.

"See something you like, lumberfoot?" she says with a slight playfulness in her voice, almost teasing.

"Oh, I was just thinking, when I examine soldiers and fellow workers, they usually have callouses on their hands and feet, sometimes. From the work and traveling and sometimes fighting. But you don't. Your feet are...perfect?"

"Of course they are. I take great care to keep them that way. I can't really help it if a vermin cuts my arm or leg or such, that's part of battle, but I do take care of what I can".

"Well, it shows. We can take a lesson in that. I always tell people to take better care of themselves. Injuries, nutrition, sleep, you name it and someone here is bad about it. Viktor sneaks so many sweets, you wouldn't believe it. He denies it too, but I've caught him red handed. I'm lucky the Inquisition didn't take me in for suspected witchcraft after that"

Kerillian laughs a bit, picturing Viktor with a sweetroll.

"I like you, lumberfoot. Your kind is usually so gruff and brutish. You're quite enjoyable though".

"Thank you, ma'am. My patients do generally have kind words regarding my services".

During this exchange, her legs and feet have fresh bandages, and you rise to your feet with your basket, now full of dirty bandages for disposal.

"I am finished. See? not so bad, right?"

"Indeed, not so bad. I rather enjoyed our time, lumberfoot. I look forward to seeing you again" she says as she dons the white robe again.

And with that, you back out of the room, and close the door.


End file.
